After Hours
by MzMoon
Summary: A collection of Funny Hellsing oneshots describing life inbetween hunts. I tried to keep everyone as incharacter as possible, please let me know if I succeeded!


A/N: My first attempt at humor! W00T! For anybody who has not read me before, I'm usually a very serious author. In this case, however, I'm just going for silly with a dash of class. Tell me if this combination works!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing.

**From Russia With Love**

Night was falling.

Alucard grunted. _Another night. Another blink of eternity's eye. And nothing to do. _ There were nights that stood out more than others, filed away in his weary mind. Nights with extraordinary people, mortals and undead alike. Events that would scar his memory until the end of time, and beyond. There were nights when he reflected upon these amazing occurrences, but not tonight. Tonight was not an evening to be spent in hours of thought.

Sometimes, he preferred to remember in other ways.

He jumped up from his place in his favorite seat, and crossed the room to a chest of drawers. Alucard crouched down, his red coat billowing out around him. He pulled open the bottom drawer and rummaged through haphazard weaponry. Antique guns here, an authentic period dagger there, along with interesting devices of death from the current era.

After a moment or two, he smirked in triumph, cradling a revolver in one hand.

It was a Nagant M1895, seven-chambered, picked off a Russian soldier by its former owner. Alucard grinned. He didn't remember the man he had taken it from… He hadn't stood out from the rest. It was hard to find gems like this these days, everything was automatic. Not that he was complaining… The Jackal and the Casull had served him well. The No-Life King settled back down in his throne, feeling around his table with one hand, his attention focused on the gun.

But it was beauties like this that reminded him of times long passed… seven chambers instead of six, and it didn't even pop out. After nearly spilling his bottle of wine, he collected a handful of bullets from a box sitting on his table that he had prepared, and began to slip them into the loading chamber, one by one.

When he had finished, Alucard spun the chamber with a practiced flick of his fingers, and set it down on the arm of his chair. He stood from his seated sprawl and slipped his crimson coat off his shoulders, catching it before it fell. The Nosferatu draped it lovingly over the back of his throne-like seat.

Next the buttons of his vest. They gave way under his nimble fingers, and the vest too was slung over the wooden chair. He reached to his neck and tugged at his cravat, loosening the strip of fabric. A tug on one of the loose ends sent it slithering into his fingers, and he carelessly threw it on the table, next to his wine.

"Ready," He affirmed to no one in particular.

* * *

_  
_

_Another night. _

_I wonder how Master stands it… it's so… boring. _Seras sighed, and considered resuming her game of Solitare. The cards were laid out on the little table in her room, and she was losing. Again.

She stretched out on her canopy bed, yawning with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. _Looks like tonight's going to be average…  
_  
Until she heard the sharp crack of a gun.

Seras sprang up from her bed, and seized her handgun from her bedside table. She dashed out of her doorway and into the corridor, running toward the shot. It came from Master's chamber! She stopped running as she heard telltale shuffling just around the corner.

I HATE GHOULS!

Seras threw herself around the bend, swinging out with a fist. A dark figure stood in her path. She screamed a war cry as something caught her hand and she sailed over its head. "Bloody Hell," she cried as she slammed into the floor in a perfect arc. Seras rolled without thinking, entangling herself in a net of invisible threads. "ARRGH!"

"Miss Victoria, I appreciate that you are practicing, but it will simply not do to practice on me."

Seras looked at her opponent for the first time, and let out a sigh. Walter. Indeed, it was the elderly butler standing there, one hand connected to the silvery wires that entangled her. The word "silver" registered with them both at the same time. Walter yelled and flicked his wrists, attempting to withdraw the wire. Seras screeched and squirmed as it began to sting. After some confusion, and quite a few burns, Walter had reclaimed his wire and Seras was nursing her new ashy stripes of skin.

"It'll heal, I do hope." Walter smiled nervously, and helped Seras to her feet. She remembered in a rush, and her eyes grew wide. "A shot! I was in my room and I heard a gun from Master's room, we have to go check it out! It could be trouble!..." She grew quieter and quieter as Walter grimaced in annoyance. "...Or am I just imagining things? I'm sorry…"

"No. You didn't imagine anything." Walter grunted as he bent down to collect the mop and bucket he had been carrying. "If you'll excuse me… It seems Alucard has been engaging in his favorite pastime once again."

Seras gulped. "Not... anything… rash?"

Walter frowned. "No. Not really."

Seras bit her lip, and then asked, "Then what is it?"

Walter looked even more tired. "Russian Roulette."

* * *

_That was a good one_, He thought, as the No-Life King swept his soupy gray matter and pieces of shattered skull off his table. They melted into a pool of shadow before they hit the ground, flitting to their rightful place at the crown of his head.

Alucard smiled at the intricate splatters and arcs of scarlet on his walls and white dress shirt. It was beautiful, this memory of gore. He wanted more. The first shot was always a rush, a warm-up of sorts. He knew the bullet was coming, and was prepared. But now there was an empty chamber.

_Six bullets left… am I feeling lucky?_


End file.
